


Warm Loving Arms to Hold Me Tight

by whimsicalmeerkat



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Carey Price is an IRL werewolf, Carey is pining, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous use of the word bro, Hand Jobs, M/M, NextDoor is the worst, Night howls, PK is a bro, PK is oblivious, Quarantine, The softest gay crisis you have ever seen, There is a pandemic, Werewolves, bros being bros, fluff and nonsense, no beta we die like warriors, that’s it that’s the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23507476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalmeerkat/pseuds/whimsicalmeerkat
Summary: Carey realized he had made a mistake when his doorbell rang at seven, and instead of a grocery delivery, he got an armful of hockey sticks, followed in short order by an armful of hockey player. “This does not count as social distancing,” he said flatly, once he had disentangled himself from PK and his sticks.The one where the NHL sends their players home, but PK goes to be with Carey because he is a bro.
Relationships: Carey Price/P. K. Subban
Comments: 15
Kudos: 80





	Warm Loving Arms to Hold Me Tight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DerRumtreiber](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerRumtreiber/gifts).

> I got a text telling me people around me are doing this [night howl](https://www.ktvu.com/news/california-community-howls-to-stay-connected-in-quarantine) thing where they all go outside at 8:00 and howl together. DerRumtreiber said she thought she had read that fanfic, and this prompt was born. Much thanks to both her and Magpie_bbq for listening to all of my crazy ideas and false starts and encouraging me the while. If I can make just a handful of people laugh, I will be happy.
> 
> Self beta'd, which is mostly any editing I did when I typed it up and a final read through. Please feel free to point out any mistakes. Title is from These Arms of Mine by Otis Redding.

PK: _My flight gets in at 6. No need to come meet me. I’ll get a Lyft._

Carey looked at the message on his phone. He considered texting PK back to tell him he had sent it to the wrong person, but PK wasn’t trying to arrange a ride, so on the off chance he didn’t figure it out, it wouldn’t be a big deal. He went back to trying to make the very fraught decision of what shape of pasta he was in the mood for tonight.

He realized he had made a mistake when his doorbell rang at seven, and instead of a grocery delivery, he got an armful of hockey sticks, followed in short order by an armful of hockey player. “This does not count as social distancing,” he said flatly, once he had disentangled himself from PK and his sticks.

“That doesn’t matter since we are quarantining together,” PK said, as if that made sense. Carey stepped back as he dragged a large suitcase and miscellaneous other bags into the house. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but he wasn’t going to leave the man and his luggage on the stoop, no matter if it felt a little bit like he had invited a vampire into his house. Not that he thought PK was a vampire. He had known a few. They tended to be quiet and wear more muted clothes than PK.

Carey didn’t know what was going on, but he was a wolf and a goalie, and he knew how to stare. PK was chattering about his flight, and the traffic, and the suspension of the season, right until he turned around and caught the look Carey was giving him. He trailed off, going silent. He maintained eye contact though. Carey would give him that.

“You’re doing your goalie wolf thing,” he said eventually.

“Am I?” Carey asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t imagine why. Why don’t you tell me why I might be doing that.”

C’mon, man, you said you were staying in Montreal, and you know you get all squirrely if you don’t have anyone to touch, so I came here.”

“I do not get _squirrely_. There is nothing squirrel-like about me,” Carey said, realizing he was growling a little bit, but PK should know better than to compare him to a rodent, even one with a fluffy tail.

Predictably, PK just rolled his eyes. “Tell me you aren’t relieved you won’t be alone for this. I know you, man. You’ll climb the walls in days without anyone around, and I don’t see this all going away in a week or two.”

“What about your family? What do they think of this plan?”

PK looked hesitant. “Well...they don’t exactly know yet. They’ll be fine with it, I am sure. Everyone else will be there. They don’t need me.”

Carey was unimpressed. He hoped he looked as unimpressed as he felt. “They’re going to worry. They probably already are because of the travel. You have to go home.”

“I’m not leaving you alone, and my family would drive you nuts. I’m here now. Get over it,” PK said, stubbornness written in every line of his body.

“Fine,” Carey said, turning towards the kitchen. He needed a beer. Apparently PK had come to cuddle him through the pandemic, and there was only so much of that a wolf could take while sober. He honestly wasn't sure which kind of pining was worse - pining for any kind of touch, or pining after someone who showed up with the stated purpose of providing that touch, but not in the way he wanted.

————-

“You have lost your goddamn mind,” Carey said, resigning himself to not only be trapped and pining, but to doing it with a madman. 

“No, come on, it’s a thing. Started in California or some shit. People all go outside at exactly eight PM and howl together. Meant to build community while we are all isolating,” PK said, apparently quite sincere about this.

“I am not going to go stand outside my house and howl as some sort of neighborly bonding that no one else is doing. This is weird even for you.”

“They do know though,” PK said, obnoxiously waving his phone in Carey’s face. “I saw the arrangements for it on NextDoor. It’s a thing. We are doing this. I know you love to get your howl on.”

“Never say ‘get your howl on’ again. How are you even on my NextDoor, you haven’t even been here an hour. You know what, never mind. If we do this, will you stop talking about all the things you plan to do during quarantine? I just want to get through this, including taking some time to do some deserved sulking about there not being any fucking hockey,” Carey said, feeling himself whining a little by the end.

“I feel you, bro. Shit sucks. How often do you get to howl in the middle of the city though?” PK gripped his shoulder and squeezed. 

When they walked outside, Carey saw that most of the neighborhood was out there. Sure enough, at exactly eight, and least four other people, not counting PK, let loose with truly awful facsimiles of howls. Carey mentally shrugged, then decided he might as well let everyone hear a proper howl, or at least as close as he could get in human form. When he dropped his head back down and opened his eyes, PK was very close and looked absolutely delighted. “Fuck, man, that was so good. I told you this would be great.” It was true that Carey felt more settled. He suspected what he got out of it was different than most, but he felt better and PK was happy. It was still a weirdass form of bonding though.

————-

They ended up sharing a bed, because PK insisted Carey needed the physical contact, and Carey is weak. He managed to limit things to PK having an arm across his waist. All he had to do was wait for PK to fall asleep, and he could move to his side of the bed. Delaying sleep was worth maybe holding on to some of his sanity.

Carey woke up feeling cozy and unusually at peace. It took a minute for the other heartbeat to register. With sudden clarity, he realized he might as well have gone to sleep immediately, because at some point in the night he had apparently basically climbed on top of PK. One of his legs was over his hip and between his thighs, he was snuggled up to him all along his torso, his arms were all kinds of clingy, and he had absolutely, definitely drooled all over his shoulder. Oh, and he was hard. This was so, so bad, because it felt right, and he just couldn’t go there. He had to get out of this bed without waking PK. Unfortunately, that would require moving his arm from where it was currently slung across Carey’s back. At least he was complicit, Carey thought wildly.

Carey took a breath, then tried rolling away. PK protested sleepily and tried to hold on, but Carey was flexible. He somehow managed to get out of his hold without rubbing his dick on him, either on purpose or by accident, and very deliberately did not sprint to the bathroom. That would not be casual and this was supposed to be just bros. Because apparently that’s what PK was trying to do. Be a bro. God, he’s said it enough that it was now a part of Carey’s inner monologue.

“You are a 32 year old man who willingly faces hockey pucks for a living. You can spend a few nights sharing a bed with your friend without being weird.” He nodded firmly at his reflection, opened the bathroom door, and was immediately tested by the view of PK’s ass in some decidedly clinging black boxer briefs, and the man was a hockey player, all right? He reached for his calm place, and was deeply grateful there were no wolves around to smell the arousal and helpless frustration he could almost smell on himself.

“Did you hear what happened in California last night?” PK turned to look at him expectantly.

“Did it happen while we were asleep, because, no.”

“They shut down a bunch of counties. Calling it shelter in place. Essential businesses only, no travel, no restaurants or bars, the whole works, until April 3rd,” PK said.

“Oh shit,” Carey said blankly. PK agreed, then kept talking. Carey somehow kept up with his side of the conversation, while inwardly having a shit fit, because, while he had known things were bad, the NHL let their players go home for fuck’s sake, he somehow hadn’t made the connection between that and PK’s unilateral decision to effectively move in with him for the whole thing.

“I need coffee,” he said, then walked out. He needed something stronger, but it was 8:00 on a Thursday morning, and he had standards to keep.

————-

“Did you see they are broadcasting virtual games,” PK asked later that day.

“What, like chel? Are players actually playing?” Carey was skeptical.

“Nah, esports people. Want to watch?”

“Fuck no. That sounds even worse than watching other teams play,” Carey said, picking up his controller again.

“Oh hey, the Gallys both came on. Think we can take them?”

“I can’t believe you even made that a question.”

An hour later, Brendan was sulkily declaring they couldn’t hold that score against him, because Chucky was hogging the good controller. Carey wondered what excuse Brendan had used to get that quarantine situation to happen. He shook his head fondly. Those idiots. He stood up. “Chicken and rice good for dinner?”

“Sure. I’ll help,” PK said.

The third time PK nearly ran into him in his frankly spacious kitchen, Carey banished him to the other side of the island. “If you run into my knife, I will have to let you bleed out because there’s a pandemic out there, and that would make your mom sad.”

“It would make you sad too, but I know better than to worry. You would brave a pandemic for me,” he said, grinning with absolute confidence.

“Don’t test me,” Carey said, turning back to the stove. He was sure his face was doing something ridiculous, because PK was right, of course he was right, but he had no idea why he was right, and Carey was so completely fucked.

————-

Carey woke up pressed against PK again. He wasn’t sure what day of the week it was without a calendar anymore, but he knew his days would start with having to disentangle himself from PK, no matter how much harder it was getting to not just hang on. This morning he was the little spoon. Sort of. PK was basically draped on top of him. While Carey was still gathering the will to move, that he had to do this every morning without coffee was just an added layer of unfairness, PK stretched against him, and that was his dick, hard and pressing against Carey’s hip. Carey froze, and he definitely did not whimper. OK, so he didn’t whimper loud enough for anyone who wasn’t a wolf to hear. As he kept saying to any deities who might exist, he was just a wolf. There were limits to what he could take.

He very carefully started trying to extricate himself, but PK just wrapped his arms tighter, dropped more of his weight on Carey, and rocked his hips. “Stay,” he muttered against Carey’s neck.

“What…” Carey had to pause to clear his throat before his voice cracked. “What are you doing?”

“You feel nice,” PK said, sliding his hand down Carey’s abs, heading unmistakably towards his dick, and Carey had to still be asleep. There was no other explanation. He was about to have some sort of wet dream because he had been sharing a bed with the man he had loved forever for two weeks and having to make do with jerking off hurriedly in the shower, and now his body was rebelling in the most embarrassing way possible.

Right as PK closed his hand over Carey’s dick, Carey realized he had morning breath, and that wasn’t very dreamlike, which meant this was actually happening, and what the actual fuck was happening?!

“What the actual fuck is happening?!”

“I’m going to get you off. I know you have to be horny too. It’ll be just like juniors,” PK muttered, insinuating his hand into Carey’s underwear.

Carey bit down on his lip to keep from moaning, and thought, not for the first time, that juniors must have been very different for the straight guys than the closeted gay ones. He had been too afraid of someone finding out to even consider touching someone's dick, but apparently it had been all hand jobs all the time for the straights.

PK definitely knew what he was doing, and he was confident. He knew PK didn’t know he felt some kind of way about all of this, but he was gliding his hand down Carey’s cock, and it was more than he ever thought he could have, so he threw all his scruples to the winds, and let PK send his wits flying after them. Carey came so hard he was useless.

He came back to the land of the living to find PK jerking off beside him. He rolled over, reaching for PK’s dick, because apparently that was allowed now. He barely got his hand around it when PK made a punched out noise and came. Carey made a show out of wiping his hand on PK’s shirt, mostly to make him whine about it, but also because he was downright disgruntled that he finally, actually got to touch PK’s dick and the experience lasted approximately 0.5 seconds.

He climbed out of bed and strolled into the bathroom. He wasn’t sure exactly what they were doing, and it was definitely a terrible idea, but he felt good.

————-

After a couple more mornings of exchanging hand jobs, Carey woke up draped across PK, and decided he was going to indulge. Not too much. He couldn’t let things get awkward when they couldn’t exactly get away from each other, but this thing had an end date, so he was going to take what he could. Moving as quietly and stealthily as he could, he slipped down the bed, tugging PK’s boxer briefs down over his hips. His cock was half hard from sleep, and he barely even twitched when Carey licked up the side.He could work with this.

PK was all the way hard and leaking pre-come in Carey’s mouth before he seemed to realize what was happening. He made some sort of garbled noise that was possibly part Carey’s name and part swearing, before digging his fingers in the sheets and moaning. Feeling daring and a little bit reckless with want, Carey grabbed one of his hands and put it on his head. He reapplied himself to trying to take PK apart, while also trying to memorize everything. “Fuck, Carey, you’re so good at this,” PK mumbled, hand petting Carey’s hair. He didn’t have to be so gentle, but Carey was too gone on the taste and feel of his cock heavy on his tongue to get that across. PK did eventually tug a little while babbling about how close he was, but Carey just ignored him and held his hips down until he came with a yell.

Carey felt like he had been hard forever, which he knew was melodramatic, but he had wanted to do that for a...while. He flopped over, got his hand on his dick, and came a couple of strokes later. If he was wishing he could do it on PK’s chest, well, he could be as greedy as he wanted in the confines of his own mind.

————-

Carey woke up when PK wrapped his hand around his cock and squeezed. He mumbled something he hoped conveyed, “good morning, this is a pleasant way to wake,” and not “I love you and want to marry you and wake up like this every morning.” PK didn’t stop and recoil, so he must have hit the right note. He slid his hand up and down Carey’s dick a few times, then crowded somehow closer, and said, “I want to blow you,” low and dirty in Carey’s ear.

It took a minute to process the statement and respond, what with the need to not embarrass himself by coming immediately or squeaking like a little girl. “You...why?”

“I want to make you feel good too.”

“This feels good,” Carey said, bucking his hips.

“Blow jobs are better,” PK, said almost abstractedly, casually pulling Carey’s hips back against him and holding him still. 

“PK…” Carey gasped, knowing it was important to keep his wits together enough to say this. “You’re straight. You are just so, so straight.” He really hoped none of his despair was leaking through.

“Well, I mean, it’s a quarantine, bro,” PK said, shrugging while still gripping Carey’s dick, which meant it took a minute to gather his thoughts about how that wasn’t how any of this works and he doesn’t owe him anything, but PK wasn’t willing to wait for anything like rational analysis. “Dude, just stop, you know you want me to suck your dick.”

Carey ruthlessly squashed his desire to whimper, but still couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wasn’t gasping out variations on yes. “You’ll be terrible at it,” he finally managed. 

PK snorted as he rolled him on his back and climbed over him. “I’ll get better,” he said, smirking, and applied himself to learning how to suck Carey off like it was a new play guaranteed to win him the cup. It was pretty bad, but Carey was so into him it didn’t matter. 

“Not so terrible then,” PK said smugly, leaning up over Carey’s body. For a breathless moment, Carey thought he was going to kiss him. 

“Eh, it was acceptable,” Carey said, then reached for PK. Maybe if he could make him come, Carey could keep from confessing just how into it he was, especially if he could get his mouth on him. Growing impatient, he flipped them. “Let me show you how it should be done.”

————-

“Oh damn, I meant to check for ice cream. We’re almost out,” PK said from where they were wiping down and unloading groceries. “How come you let me forget to order ice cream?”

“I felt like listening to you whine. Just put in another order. It’ll probably take a few days, but ASAPbasket will let you add stuff up until they start shopping. That way, you can add anything else you think of,” Carey said. He had gotten a lot of practice at this. Thank god this nightmare was at least happening in the age of the internet.

“OK, they have a delivery slot in four days. That’s not too bad,” PK said, putting down his phone.

Later that night, they were on the couch trying to decide what to watch. So far it was shaping up to be another evening of whatever Netflix decided to auto play before they caught it. THey had already watched Tiger King, and Carey had put his foot down about Tidying Up. (“I am sure it is life changing, but you can watch it again when you are in your own place with your own stuff, PK”) He put on an episode of GBBO. “It’s too bad we couldn’t get yeast. I feel like we are really missing out on the quarantine experience without trying to make bread,” he said, looking over to where PK was sprawled next to him. He was staring at the ceiling and didn’t seem like he heard him. Carey just faced forward and let the accents and carbs wash over him.

“Do you have condoms?”

“Couple in my wallet, probably, but…” Carey’s brain caught up with his mouth. “Wait, why?”

PK looked up from where he was playing on his phone. He had turned sideways, so he was leaning against the arm of the couch, toes almost tucked under Carey’s thigh. He looked at Carey like he was being stupid. “They are talking about extending this another month. We’ll need more than a couple you might or might not have. I’ll add them to the order,” he said, casually looking back down.

Carey stared at him. There is no way he is going to do this. He is already having a hard time keeping his head on right and remembering this means something very different to PK. He couldn’t even imagine being filled by him, stretched around him, and knowing it was just because he was there. “We don’t need condoms, dude, we aren’t going to be fucking anyone,” he said.

PK just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right, whatever you say.” He didn’t even look up from his phone. Whatever, let him order them. It wasn’t like that obligated Carey to agree to anything.

That night, when they were climbing into bed, PK pulled Carey down by the back of his neck and kissed him. Carey was a little drunk, he had dispensed with the glass tonight, and PK tasted warm and like whisky, so he went with it. It was so easy to lose himself in the slick heat of PK’s mouth, in swallowing the gasps he made as Carey ground down with his hips. In feeling how it felt when their hard dicks pressed together with only a couple of thin layers of fabric in between. The feel and taste of PK was exquisite, and Carey wasn’t sure he would ever get enough.

PK dragged Carey’s boxers down his thighs, groped his ass, and flipped them. He hauled down his own underwear, mumbling about trying something he had seen, before wrapping his hand around both of them. Carey might have been sober enough to be worried about how loudly he groaned when he felt PK’s bare cock pressed against his own, but PK was even louder. “Fuck, the guys in that porno weren’t faking this feeling good,” he slurred, then tightened his hand and stroked. Carey moaned and arched into his grip, too far gone to really process anything other than how good everything felt, and how hard he was about to come.

————-

Carey woke up hungover. He wasn’t sure where PK was, but all he wanted was a toothbrush, ibuprofen, and coffee. He had taken the pills and was halfway through brushing his teeth when the twin memories of PK kissing him and PK apparently watching gay porn bubbled up to the surface of his brain. He was staring at his reflection still, when PK came back in, said, “I made coffee,” kissed him on the cheek, and got in the shower. Carey somehow made it through brushing his teeth, and stumbled off to the kitchen. He was sitting at the island staring into his coffee when PK came into the kitchen, but he didn’t really notice until PK touched his neck. “You OK, man?”

Carey didn’t flinch, but if goalie calm was a limited quantity, he burned more than the situation deserved in the effort. “Yeah, sorry, a bit of a hangover. What’d I miss?”

“I was asking if we needed to add to the ASAPbasket order. Right now all we have is ice cream and condoms.”

Carey straightened up a little. “We should probably cancel it, unless you really want ice cream badly enough to make someone go to the store during a pandemic. We don’t need the condoms.”

PK looked at him uncomfortably. “The condoms are the part we actually need. I trust you, man, but I don’t trust anyone that much. We need the condoms.”

Carey just stared. “We don’t need the condoms, because we aren’t going to be doing anything that requires a condom, jesus fucking christ, PK, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I like making you feel good, and fucking feels good,” PK said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Carey was fucking done. “Don’t act like you are doing me any favors. You’re into it too. This ‘it’s a quarantine, bro’ excuse is all that is happening for you, but for me, this is real. I’m gay all the time. I don’t get to just sweep this all into some sort of #quarantinenohomo box in a few weeks. This isn’t just bros being bros for me.”

PK still didn’t get it. “Dude, but I am into it. You’re not, like, taking advantage of me or anything.”

Carey growled. “It’s not because I am gay, it’s because I am gay and in love with you, where you are apparently bored and probably not as straight as you thought,” he snapped.

PK looked thunderstruck. Carey wasn’t sure why the idea he had been acting pretty gay was so startling, when he was the one who had started the dick touching. “You...you’re in love with me?”

Carey jerked back and off the stool, full of panic. He knew, PK knew, how did he know, oh fuck, he knew because he told him, of course he told him, oh fuck. Carey could hear himself whimpering, then suddenly his head was on the same height as the counter and his clothes were in shreds around his paws. He hadn’t spontaneously wolfed out since he was thirteen, but he had now. He tried turning back, but his wolf was in charge, and it was scared. Not of physical violence, but still, too scared to let Carey go back to human form.

“Shit, dude, are you...oh. You’re a wolf.” PK appeared around the island. Carey rolled his eyes, then backed away when PK came closer. PK stopped. “Did you change just to get out of the conversation,” he started, but Carey was already heading for the dog door. He needed to think about what the hell to do. With any luck, PK would think it was deliberate and he just needed time. He slipped out into the chilly morning and headed straight for a cluster of trees in the back corner of the yard. He would curl up in there and come up with a plan.

That plan lasted for exactly an hour. He was still low key freaking out when the back door opened and PK came out. He headed straight towards Carey. “You OK, man? It’s been an hour. Can you at least let me know you’re OK? I set a timer so I made sure to give you space, but I’m worried. At least turn back to tell me to fuck off or something. You don’t have to talk to me, but I just need to make sure you aren’t a wolf forever now because you have feelings or something,” he said, smirking. Carey took the only possible course of action, which was to use his paw to shove PK flat on his ass in the snow, then jump over him and head for the house. He was nice. He only stomped on him a little and didn’t jack rabbit off his torso. The ”oof” that left PK when he stepped on his shoulder was pretty satisfying.

————-

“Hey, I brought you some breakfast. I hope bacon & eggs is OK,” PK said, appearing in the door of the office where Corey was holed up. It had been two hours. PK had showered. He didn’t smell like Carey much at all anymore, which was how it should be, he reminded himself. It didn’t help him stop sulking. That sort of thing mattered more when he was in his wolf form.

“I don’t think I am completely straight,” PK said from his seat on the floor near the door. Carey dropped the bacon in his mouth to level his most unimpressed gaze, and he knew from experience that two hundred pounds of wolf could look very unimpressed. PK looked flustered. “I mean, obviously, but I mean, maybe not just in a being bros during a quarantine way,” he said, and he was off. Carey just finished his food and curled up to let the words wash over him. He missed PK when he wasn’t around.

Carey woke up to PK carding his hands through the fur on his neck. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t let on that he was awake. “I don’t think I am straight, but the only part that matters is I have never been into anyone of any gender like I am into you, and it has taken a few hours of sitting and talking to your sleeping wolf form for me to realize it. I’m so into you I made up an excuse to go into quarantine with you and I didn’t even know.”

Carey sat up carefully, then shifted. He wasn’t surprised that he could this time. PK was watching him carefully. “How long were you awake,” he asked.

“Mostly just long enough for the moment when you realized why you really came here,” Carey said, standing. “You really just thought you were being a bro?”

PK sputtered. “I was, I’m an awesome bro!” He followed Carey down the hall.

Carey gave him a look as he pulled on sweats and a t-shirt. “If that was you being a bro, you’re only allowed to have one from now on,” he said, crowding PK back against the bedroom wall, using the few inches of height he had on him.

“Yeah, OK,” PK said faintly, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. “I can do that.”

The doorbell rang right as he was leaning his head down to kiss PK. He jerked back and swore. “Stay here.” He headed down the hall. He pulled the door open to a somewhat nervous young man in a mask and gloves. There was a paper bag on the mat. Carey could see that all that was in it was three kinds of ice cream and two very large boxes of condoms.

“I, I’m sorry, I just wanted to let you know I got two large boxes of the large condoms because I didn’t think it made sense to change sizes instead of quantity and they were out of the other boxes, and you’re, you’re Carey Price…” the kid trailed off, eyes huge.

Carey just pointed to the sign by the door. “Email me your Venmo for an extra tip.” He knew PK had shown up with the kid’s eyes got even wider. Carey growled, only a little, but the kid visibly jumped and fled back to his car. Carey turned to an entirely unrepentant PK. “Just for that, you get to wipe these down. Ice cream can go straight in the freezer. Condoms go out in the garage for a couple of days.”

“But…” PK started to whine, then sighed. “I was going to say I was sure it would be OK, but I don’t want to be that statistic.”

“Don’t worry, I probably have a box in my bedside table. And if not, two days won’t kill you. Think of all the other things bros can do during quarantine”

“When are you going to let me live that down?” 

“Absolutely never,” Carey said, grabbing a handful of PK’s ass, then following him closely to the kitchen. If the ice cream maybe took a little bit longer to get into the freezer, well, Carey wasn’t inclined to put off indulging in his new rights to touch.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if Instacart is a thing in Canada, but DerRumtreiber coined ASAPbasket in a conversation about it, so it had to be a thing.


End file.
